Summary: Based on a tumblr prompt from gabrielthetricksterarchangel: who gets hungry in the middle of the night and who walks into the kitchen the next morning to find the first person passed out on the floor surrounded by pizza crusts?
By: RazzmatazzWillow
Once Simon learned how to eat again, he found he was always hungry. Raphael had helped him to figure out how to keep solid food down, in an effort to bring a small sense of normality back into Simon's existence. Simon had been grateful at the time, but just as he had struggled to control his thirst for blood when he first turned, he now had no control over his hunger for food. Human food. More specifically, pizza.
Clary was his enabler. They had met up soon after Simon had learned his new trick and she'd almost cried at the sight of him drinking his coffee and eating his Danish. Ever since, whenever he wanted some food during the day, he'd text her. When Clary had first become a shadowhunter and Simon's world was turned upside down, they had grown apart a bit. Now that they had somewhat settled into their new roles, they were being better best friends as well. On occasion Clary had shown up at the hotel with a bag of moo shu pork in hand, just to quickly kiss him on the cheek and run off to slay some demons. Simon had gotten better at controlling his bloodlust, and had turned out to be a valuable asset in the field. This different way of life was beginning to work out.
Simon hadn't appreciated pizza enough in his former life, he decided, as he stood in the highly unnecessary kitchen of the Hotel DuMort, at three in the afternoon, in his pyjamas. He paused mid-chew when he heard a creak upstairs, his now fully-trained enhanced senses kicking in. Silence rings throughout the hotel for another thirty seconds before Simon finishes his slice. His relationships with the other vampires had improved some (one in particular had improved immensely), and he didn't want to jeopardise that by waking them up, or flaunting his new talent.
He knows he should just go back to bed. He had a comfortable mattress and a cute boy waiting for him just upstairs. With vamp-speed he could get there in seconds. But the pizza. It was right there, and no one else was going to eat it. If he left it as it was, half eaten and getting colder by the second, well, that would just be wasteful, wouldn't it?
When Raphael woke up at dusk, he immediately noticed that Simon was missing. In the past few weeks, not once had Raphael woken up not touching Simon. Sometimes it was a hand on his chest, or an elbow in his side, or, on occasion, Simon's entire body was wrapped around Raphael as though he were a life vest and without him, Simon would drown. That was Raphael's new favourite way to wake up, not that he would ever admit it. So when Simon was not there, Raphael was immediately on high alert. He sat up straight in the bed, listening for any sign of Simon throughout the hotel. This was difficult, however, because most of the rest of the clan was waking up now, as well.
Raphael groaned as he got out of bed, worried but also exasperated. Simon was always getting himself into trouble. He was too awkward, too trusting, still too mundane to survive in the downworld. As Raphael stalked through the halls he grew more and more agitated. He couldn't spend all his time chasing after one fledgling, he was in charge now, he had responsibilities. He would though, keep chasing Simon, of course he would. He couldn't help himself when it came to Simon, it was an uncontrollable need to protect, to hold, to keep safe.
He was still grumbling to himself when he reached the kitchen. The smell coming from that direction was pungent, and Raphael felt his stomach turn. He had loved pizza when he was alive, but now even the sight of it made his skin crawl. There was probably some deep, meaningful, psychological reason for that, but Raphael preferred not to think about it. He decided to brave the odour and venture inside.
Lo and behold, there he was. Simon Lewis was fast asleep on the floor of the kitchen. He had half a slice still in his hand, some tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth, and two empty pizza boxes on the counter. Raphael sighed deeply. He should have known to check here first.
"Dios mio" he said softly as he leaned down to shake Simon awake. "Wake up, idiota. Come on." Simon stirred a little but didn't wake completely. "Ay, mi corazon, what were you thinking?" he shook his head as Simon began to rouse.
"Ugh", Simon grunts, "I don't feel so good." His voice was slurred with sleep, his eyes barely opening, and his hair sticking up at all angles. He'd never looked more beautiful.
Raphael couldn't stifle the grin that overtook his features. "That's because you ate too much. Come on, let's get you back to bed."
Raphael managed to return Simon to his room without running into any of the others, which is either a miracle or, more likely, Lily's doing. He would be sure to thank her later. He could almost feel Simon falling back to sleep as he grew heavier and heavier on Raphael's shoulder.
Simon practically tumbled on to the bed, dragging Raphael down with him and grabbing at the covers. Raphael tried to extricate himself from the mess of limbs and sheets (not very hard, but he did try a little), but when Simon pressed a kiss to his forehead and muttered something about "five more minutes", well... who was Raphael to deny such a reasonable request?
